The Wolf and the Dog
by Alien-Ariel
Summary: Avery Reeves has recently gone through a major personality overhaul. Is her attraction to Neville Longbottom in line with the old her, or a bi-product of her new self? NL/OC Rated just in case


**This is an experimental story about Hogwarts in the 7th book, with the trio gone.**

**This one is long, but the other chapters will be shorter.**

**I'm just putting this one out for now, and won't be updating until I finish off my other story (which really shouldn't take much over a week or two).**

**Tell me what you think! I appreciate reviews! Enjoy.**

Hogwarts...

I'll just let the weight of that one word resonate for a while. If you're a true student, and especially a muggle-born like me, you know what I mean. The magic, the energy, the lifestyle... the boys! And the friends, the teachers, the knowledge. But also the excitement, the nerves, the fear...

For me, Hogwarts meant more than a bed, some good food and a bit of magic; it was a home and sanctuary for me. Home is where the heart is, and my heart had been homeless and cold before I learned I was a witch. Since then, it has refused to be parted from the castle. I'm seventeen now and will have to say goodbye soon, but for now I'm going to enjoy the time I have left. But first, let me take you up to speed on my history. Everyone could use some perspective in these hard times.

As a muggle-born, I had zero idea what this school was like. I had zero idea what the wizarding community was like. Oh man, I was totally unprepared. What a culture shock. At the tender and transitory age of eleven I took my first trip to Diagon Alley with a group of other first-year muggle-borns lead by Professor Doom-bley-doray (which I continued to mistakenly call him until he introduced himself at the start-of-term feast). He helpfully pointed out the necessary shops for school items and other such things. I instantly pegged him with a quiet sort of kindness and humor, and was drawn to liking him right away.

We first had our money exchanged for wizarding gold at the ghostly white Gringott's building. The families split up at that point to shop in private. Diagon Alley was most peaceful that year, a calm that seemed to degrade some every year. We got my robes (which I wore out of the shop), the books (which I was already reading), the potions equipment (my parents about had a heart attack now, looking at all those weird supplies), miscellaneous stationary (quills, ink, parchment), and finally an owl. My parents wanted to know I was safe, being so far from home, so they grudgingly bought me a cute little screech owl. I named him Waffle and carried him around on my shoulder, which people didn't seem to appreciate.

When the big day arrived, I tripped my way through the wall with two boys named Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, whose mother guided us. My dad came to see me off, but my mother was starting to dislike wizards and all their eccentricities. She hadn't gotten off on the right foot with Mr. Weasley, maybe because he had seemed rather worked up about her cell phone. While I found the entire exchange hilarious and kind of endearing, mom just couldn't see the humor in the man nearly breaking the battery in half. So she hung back with Dimitri, my horrible little brother, and, to be blunt, her favorite between the two of us.

I felt stupid, because only myself and one other bushy haired girl were wearing our uniforms. It was like wearing your Halloween costume the day before Halloween: it's just embarrassing, for both you and everyone else who knew better. I hugged my dad quickly and darted onto the train to hide my red face in an empty compartment.

I felt well enough alone to let myself cry out the embarrassment. It's hard to say how long I wallowed, but then something in me clicked and I realized just how pathetic this all was. I made a promise to myself to just let things pass me by and just to enjoy myself. I didn't know anyone else here; I could be whatever I wanted, whomever I wanted. At this point a shy looking boy peeked in his head. I was aware that my cheeks still had old trails of tears on them, but made no attempt to hastily wipe them away; the new mysterious, wild me didn't care.

"Are-are you okay?" The boy asked quietly.

"Fine, thank you." I replied while I pulled out a book called Hogwarts: A History and looked up the criteria for each house.

"W-were you crying?" He asked, still not coming any farther into the compartment.

"Nope." I said without looking up.

"Oh. I just figured-" He started, but then stopped when I looked at him for the first time.

My heart started to beat faster and was picking up pace the longer I looked at him. Maybe it was me staring at him so intensely, or maybe his heart was racing like mine. Either way, he was just as unable to say anything as I. There was electricity in that look, and there was no way he didn't feel it too. This was new to me' after all, I was only eleven.

He didn't know my name was Avery Reeves, and I didn't know his name was Neville Longbottom. At least not yet. But we would soon find out. The thing we wouldn't even be able to guess at is how much we would need, and want, each other by the end of our run at Hogwarts.

Later at the feast, us frightened first years were being sorted alphabetically. The first girl was dead scared, because some bonehead had started a rumor that we would be fighting a mountain troll for the sorting, but that was obviously false. The sorting was as difficult as putting a mangy old talking hat on your head, which could apparently look into your mind to judge where to put you. Not having the faintest idea how magic worked, I imagined horrible, slimy tentacles puncturing my skull when my name was called. I was out into Ravenclaw, despite my newly adopted attitude. I think it did it to spite me. So whatever.

I did well in my classes, especially Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, due to my aptitude in memorization and concentration. I had a mind for memorizing, I guess. The year went by quick and I grew a lot. I learned a lot of spells and a lot of names, including that of Neville Longbottom, whom I happened upon "by accident" more often than not. Most people seemed unable to adjust or accept my wild side, so I spent most of my time alone.

I identified with Professor McGonagall and usually went to her for advice. Her door was always open and she treated me with a stern kindness I'd always looked for in a mother figure. She did seem to like me, but didn't favor me in class, which I greatly appreciated. I never wanted to be favored over anyone else, maybe because of how my mom totally preferred Dimitri to me. My mom didn't seem to care for my mostly solitary existence and most of our conversations ended with shouts, tears, and locked bedroom doors.

Likewise, Hagrid became a weird father for me. I liked to take walks around the grounds with Waffle, and he would walk with us, or invite me over for rock cakes and tea (like a cute little tea party). We would talk about anything that I wanted, and I always went to him when I felt like crying. I love my real dad, but when my mom and I fight, he's too spineless to take sides, especially not mine. Sometimes a kid just needs to be told they're right and get a hug. Hagrid did that for me, when he saw I needed it. But mostly, he was just there for me.

A lot of crap happened at the end of the year with some dude named Lord Voldemort, which seemed to freak people out quite a bit. _I'd_ never heard of him anyway. I departed Hogwarts and took the same empty compartment back to King's Cross. I reflected on my first year of magic, fed Waffle owl treats, stared out the window, and tried not to dwell on the uncomfortable summer speeding towards me.

My second year was dramatic but in some ways a lot better than the first. I first met Ginny Weasley when I slammed the compartment door in her face. She pulled it back open and marched right over to me, staring me directly in the eyes. I glared right back, now used to my unafraid new self. After a while she broke the glower and settled herself into my compartment.

"Any girl that can slam a door in my face and not blink at my best death glare is a friend to me." She said as she unwrapped a pumpkin pasty and handed me half. Thus a friendship was born. We were a good match; I helped her nurture her ability to flirt, she helped me mature my wild side. A girl named Luna Lovegood was sorted that year into my house. She was so weird, but I liked her; she had a knack for saying painfully honest things to people, not unlike myself. Plus, she was funny, in her own way. While Ginny was the best friend who completed me, Luna was the best friend that I had the most in common with.

The attacks on the students that year hit awfully close to home, as I later realized how many near misses I had with the beast. And also, how Ginny had been possessed. She had been so different, it's amazing Luna and I didn't notice something earlier. But, once I found out, after it was all over, that the monster was a giant snake, I could definitely link that to a tunneling, slinking sound that had plagued me almost all year. Maybe the thing was following me around the castle, maybe it was just chance, but sometimes I'll be laying half-asleep in the dark and imagine the noise. I thank God for my immeasurable luck every time those memories haunt me.

Third year was rather strained for me. Things just seemed to get worse and worse. I had stayed the summer at the Weasleys' house without asking, or telling, my parents (and proceeded to for every summer after that). So, naturally, I wouldn't know about Dimitri's acceptance letter until I saw him standing in the little line of first-years back at the start-of-term feast. That little beast being here, blowing my new persona, was not what I needed. The end was surely upon me.

But God works in mysterious ways. Not only did Dimitri get sorted into Slytherin, far away from me, he also never seemed to notice me. My thankful prayers and devotion to my Christian religion took a massive upsurge that year.

There _was_ one incident, sometime towards the end of the term. I was sneaking around after hours, trying to find a slice of moonlight to get lost in until the morning. I couldn't sleep a lot that year; my worry kept me mobile. I heard a familiar voice and a girly giggling about half way down a hall on the fifth floor. Knowingly, I pulled open the door to a broom closet, illuminating Dimitri and some nameless girl going at it. I seemed to have happened across them before it got serious, which was a small relief. Something passed between my brother and I at this point: I wouldn't tell this girl (or any girl) what a loser he was before, in muggle school, if he didn't tell people how boring I used to be, and maybe still secretly was. It was the only pact we'd actually ever keep with each other. We all need a chance to be someone else.

I lovingly remember my fourth term as the year of raging hormones. Both the boys and girls in our year had gone through puberty at this point, and emotions were flying everywhere. Girls were sobbing, boys were beating the tar out of each other; it was all good fun. I still pursued Neville Longbottom everywhere, and I think he'd finally realized I wasn't being mean and that I was actually _flirting_. The word didn't seem to be in his vocabulary, so it obviously wasn't reciprocated; but that was kind of understood between us. I was the bold one, and he was still trying not to wet his pants when I was giving him that special look fourteen-year-old girls monopolize.

Terry Boot, a long-time friend from Ravenclaw, took me to the Yule Ball. It was a good time; I would make him all worked up by dancing with Ginny (who had insured Neville being there to see me by taking him), and he would act like it didn't affect him. But it did, and it still does. If I've had any relationships, it would be with Terry, as one-sided as it is. We were on-again, off-again every year after that. If I needed a boy's attentions he was there; if I didn't, he was there anyway. I think the technical term is "stalking".

Fifth year was the term from hell. It's a good thing that Umbridge woman got dismembered by Centaurs, because there was no way I would deal with another year of that shit. One of the few good things that happened was Dumbledore's Army. I kept tabs on Hermione Granger, because we were both muggle-borns, and we could look out for each other. We were never super best friends, because her, Ron, and Harry were a package deal; I liked Ron well enough, but Harry was way too moody for me, and I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to keep my mouth shut around him.

Regardless, I got an invite to the Hog's Head to hear about their secret club. I'm not knocking it, even if I did find it all a bit pretentious. At least I would be a part of something. A group of unhappy rebel kids working against a corrupt and tyrannical system. How progressive of me. Plus, I found several excuses to team up with Neville and show off. It sucks that Voldemort had to come and ruin all the good fun.

Last year was weird. Between the disastrous state of Diagon Alley and the death of Professor Dumbledore, you could _feel_ the tension. It pressed so hard and persistently on my heart that it seemed easier to ignore it. I would just let things pass me and laugh about it.

I lost a lot of respect for myself that year, looking back on it. I wasn't a good person. So this year, my final year, either they (all those horrible people in the world) are going down or I', dragging them down with me. Now was the time to stand and act out against the bad people in this screwed world. Come hell or high water, I would make something of myself, and try to fix whatever I could along the way.


End file.
